Mahala Mullins: The Legendary Moonshiner aka Big Haley
Telling the Stories of Women in Distilling: Part 2
Imagine running so much illegal moonshine that the federal government couldn't even get you out of your house to arrest you. Big Haley did just that.
Mahalia Mullins, better known as Big Haley, carved her name into Appalachian folklore as one of the most infamous moonshiners in American history. As a female moonshiner myself, I was immediately drawn to her story, which quickly became one of my favorites. As soon as I could, I went to the area of eastern Tennessee known as Newman's Ridge, where Haley’s cabin once stood. Today, that cabin has been dismantled from its original mountaintop location and reassembled nearby, where it now houses a small museum dedicated to preserving her legacy & story.
And this is a story you will want to hear.
Mahalia Mullins, Big Haley, was famously known as “catchable, but not fetchable.” Whether the stories surrounding her life are entirely true or shaped by generations of romanticized legend, she remains a powerful symbol of Appalachian resilience: a hardworking woman who did whatever was necessary to support her family, even if that meant making moonshine.
The first version of her story I ever heard centered on her Famous Apple Brandy. According to local lore, people traveled from as far away as Mexico and Canada to Newman’s Ridge to buy it in the mid to late 1800s. That alone made me curious. If her product inspired that kind of devotion, especially in that time and place, when travel was not as simple, there had to be more behind it. I wanted to know what made her spirits so sought after & see if I could try to recreate that little piece of history; it seemed somehow tangible.
Once I arrived, I quickly realized there was more to Big Haley than a tall tale and a lost recipe, though I’ll admit, the recipe was at the forefront of my mind. What truly came into focus was Mahalia herself: the human being behind the legend, a side of her story rarely explored in the songs and stories passed down through the years.
Mahalia was of Melungeon descent, a heritage that subjected her to deep prejudice during her lifetime. Like many Native Americans, Melungeon families were often displaced and forced to move from their homes. She came to settle on Newman’s Ridge, where she built her cabin and lived with her husband. Johnny Collins, often referred to locally as “Johnny Appleseed” for his habit of spreading apple and fruit tree seedlings throughout the region. Mahalia later suffered from elephantiasis, a condition that left her largely homebound in her later years. She was a larger then life women Both figuratively and literally. Her actual weight, like much of her story, is heavily debated.
Much of her legend takes shape after Johnny’s death. During his life, he worked as a trapper and fur trader, traveling the region and planting fruit trees so neighbors would have food to share. When he passed away, Mahalia was left to support a large family, often said to include anywhere from 19 to 21 children. Several of her sons and her husband predeceased her, and distilling became a means of survival: a way to put food on the table and keep her family afloat.
To those unfamiliar with Appalachian distilling heritage, it’s easy to misunderstand that choice, to assume moonshining was a lesser trade, or that it reflected irresponsibility or desperation. But the historical accounts tell a very different story. By all indications, Haley did quite well. At a time when many rural Appalachian families struggled to survive, Mahalia’s household lived comfortably. They had decent clothing, decorative furnishings, and a sturdy cabin. Family stories even tell of Mahalia reaching into a jar of gold coins to help a granddaughter who wished to elope, giving her enough money to start a new life.
Her reputation, however, came with complications. There are conflicting stories about whether Mahalia and her family were rowdy or drank excessively, claims often rooted more in prejudice against Melungeon people than fact. Like many Appalachian families of the era, they were lively and independent. The difference was that they distilled and sold moonshine, and they did so openly enough to draw attention.
What truly cemented Big Haley’s legend wasn’t just that she made moonshine; it was that she could never be prosecuted. Local law enforcement knew exactly what she was doing and attempted multiple times to arrest her. Ballads and oral histories recount these efforts in detail. But due to her health, Mahalia could not leave her cabin, and there was no practical way to transport her down the mountain to appear in court. She was, quite literally, catchable, but not fetchable.
As a result, she remained in her cabin and continued distilling for much of her life. Some details of her story are debated, especially among descendants, and I want to be clear: not every version can be treated as fact. What is certain is that moonshine was made at that cabin on Newman’s Ridge, and that Mahalia Mullins did what she could with what she had. When you’re poor, isolated, and surrounded by fruit-bearing trees, distilling brandy becomes not just practical, but logical. Over time, her children would have learned the trade and helped carry it on, caring for her as she aged.
Her spirit lives on through the countless stories told about her ingenuity: hiding jugs of moonshine beneath her skirts because no lawman would dare look there, or stashing liquor in trees around the property. Her name is inseparable from eastern Tennessee Appalachia and its moonshine heritage. Again and again, people still tell of Big Haley Mullins, her apple brandy, and the woman who could never be truly caught.
That rebellious streak, the refusal to bend in the face of authority, resonates deeply. What I find most commendable isn’t just that she resisted, but that she did so successfully. She didn’t merely survive; she provided well for her family in a time when comfort was rare. That was a part of her story I never expected to uncover.
During my research, I discovered apples growing below Newman’s Ridge in an abandoned, overgrown orchard. They closely matched the descriptions given by historians and family members of the apples that once grew near Mahalia’s cabin. We interviewed the oldest living relative who had lived in the cabin at its original location, and Mr. Mullins shared firsthand accounts of surviving Appalachian winters during the difficult years following the Great Depression. Those conversations offered invaluable insight into what life might have been like for Mahalia.
My goal was never to recreate her apple brandy perfectly; there’s no way to know if that’s possible, as, like most moonshine recipes & history of this time, it was never recorded. Instead, I sought to walk in her footsteps: to source apples like hers, from her ridge (& I totally kept those seeds), create a mash using period-appropriate methods, and better understand what it means to be a woman distiller in Appalachia. Recreating these spirits is my way of honoring the people behind them. Their stories deserve to be told.
Mahalia Mullins passed away in 1898 in her cabin on Newman’s Ridge. According to local accounts, part of the cabin had to be dismantled to remove her body for burial on the ridge. Years later, the cabin itself was fully dismantled and reassembled at a more accessible location. Today, it is managed by the Vardy Community Historical Society. Visitors can still walk its floors, touch its walls, and experience a tangible piece of rural Appalachian life in the 1800s.
Her legacy endures as one of resilience, ingenuity, and fierce independence. Feared by some, admired by many, Big Haley remains a symbol of Appalachian grit and a reminder that women have always played a vital role in the history of distilling.
She wasn’t just a woman of Appalachia.
She was a woman in distilling.
And her story is every bit as big as she was, not just in size, but in heart.
Telling the Stories of Women in Distilling: Part 2
By: Amanda Bryant
